Chapter Two - Rome Is Burning

CHAPTER TWO

Rome Is Burning

IN 1510, MARTIN Luther took a pilgrimage to the holy city of Rome. The beating heart of Christendom, the seat of the Pope, and the sacred capital of the Catholic world.

He expected awe. He got disgust.

From the moment he arrived, Rome shattered his illusions. The Eternal City wasn’t sacred. It was sleazy. He watched priests race through mass like they were late for a party, mumbling Latin faster than he could follow. He saw bribes. Brothels. Relics sold like souvenirs. He heard more gossip than gospel.

This wasn’t the kingdom of heaven.
It was a spiritual stock exchange.

Even the famous Scala Sancta, the holy staircase said to be brought from Jerusalem, where pilgrims could crawl on their knees and shave time off their sentence in purgatory, felt hollow. Luther climbed it. He kissed each step. He prayed like he was supposed to.

But at the top, he looked back and muttered,
“Who knows if it’s even true?”

That was the crack.
The tiny fracture in his faith in the Church.

Rome had been the symbol of divine authority. A place where heaven touched earth. But to Luther, it looked like a machine. A rich, powerful, untouchable machine that talked about grace but sold salvation like indulgent candy.

And it wasn’t just what he saw, it was what he felt.
The doubt was spreading.
The rot ran deep.

When he returned to Germany, he didn’t blow a trumpet.
He didn’t shout betrayal.

He buried it.

He threw himself back into teaching. Theology. Scripture. Work.
But something had shifted.

Rome had been a test.
And the Church had failed.

Soon, he would stop biting his tongue.
Soon, he’d take that doubt and put it into ink.

And soon, a hammer would meet a door.